"You're being hired to be the stunt double for..."
Shawn sat on the edge of the bed, his breath held, the phone pressed excitedly against his ear, as the seconds passed. "...for?"
Rebecca sounded reluctant as she spoke up. "Uh, well, it's a little more exotic than what we're used to. Are you sitting down for this?"
Shawn sighed and went about making his breakfast. "I'm a dog again, aren't I? Tell them thanks, but no thanks. But without the thanks," he said bitterly, recalling his time as a hockey-playing canine. As a stunt double, he was willing even eager to put himself through most dangers, but child actors wielding hockey sticks was now crossed off his list. After one too many blows to the head, he'd spent several hours wandering LA with a concussion, actually believing himself to be a dog, even eating garbage out of dumpsters.
"Relax! It's not a dog and the money is good. It's..."
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